Vices and Vamps
by 4MeJasper
Summary: Bella's a frustrated police officer, trying to make detective during a murder epidemic in Seattle. Jasper is the Texas A&M student who brings sunshine into her rainy world. Can they avoid becoming the next victims of the unknown killers?
1. Chapter 1 - The Street

All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. I just like to play with the characters. My thanks to my wonderful beta EdwardsMate4ever, and to jaspersdoll for the title.

Vices and Vamps

Chapter 1 – The Street

The sidewalk was treacherous from the light drizzle. She shivered as she fought to keep her footing and a come-hither smile plastered on her face. Friday night, and the street was alive with cars, some cruising, and some looking for business. The murders in the recent headlines hadn't stopped those in search of a good time.

Bella's outfit wasn't made for this weather. Six-inch heels and torn fishnet stockings paired with a faux leather mini-skirt and bright fuchsia top with the word Hollywood written in rhinestones across the bust. Bella sighed and stopped, posing for the passing cars. In civilian life, she didn't wear heels like this. She winced, feeling her feet blistering where the straps on the shoes were rubbing.

Keep smiling, keep posing. This was her job now. Sell it to the passersby.

She heard footsteps behind her. Whoever it was, they stopped when she stopped.

She forced herself to keep looking ahead, but she wrapped her finger around the trigger of the gun she kept in her bright, animal-print purse. She had bought the purse to fit around her department-issued Smith & Wesson MP40, and she could shoot through the purse if she needed to.

Step, step, painful step. Sound of the wind and laughing voices interspersed with music from car radios. Red brake lights alternated with white headlights on the street. She kept moving, listening for the sound of her pursuer. A blue sedan, recent model, slowed down next to her.

"Hey," someone yelled out the window. She paused, posing with a hip jutting out.

"Want a date?" she asked.

"I never pay for it," the guy said before throwing a beer bottle at her.

She ducked so it just missed her face and smashed to pieces on the wall behind her_. Jerk_. The car revved its motor and tore off, laughter following in its wake. Probably frat boys, out looking for an easy score; tourists in this part of town where the business of drugs and sex were taken seriously.

Bella took the opportunity to look behind her. She couldn't see anyone, but there was an alley a half block behind her. Whoever was following could have ducked into it and be just out of sight.

She was shivering again, not just from being wet and the near miss with the bottle, but from fear.

Seattle was in the midst of a murder crisis. Instead of pulling her in to work on it, her supervisor-that dick Mike Newton-had sent her out here on a vice decoy detail.

She hated it. This wasn't why she joined the Seattle Police Department.

_Focus._ Veronica was at the next corner, leaning into a car. The door opened, and she got in. A new girl calling herself Missy Goodride was on the opposite corner. She had some major work done, hoping to make it in the movies. The porn industry had used her up and spit her out, so she was working the street.

Nowadays, Bella never knew if she would be seeing any of these girls again after they got into the cars that stopped for them.

They were all desperate, desperate enough to turn tricks. Needing drugs, or bottomed out in the economy, they couldn't make it working in fast food with kids at home. The cash from just a few tricks would make a difference, and they could quit whenever they wanted. Or so they told themselves.

Because Seattle was in a state of turmoil. The newspapers and Internet headlines were screaming about how people were not only being murdered, but were disappearing.

The murder victims first caught the headlines three months ago. It didn't take long for the press to notice an uptick in the missing person cases shortly after. Even in Seattle, there were a lot. Clean-cut college kids, disappearing on their way home from night classes. Young men or women walking home from a late shift. Always at night, and never seen again.

Bella shook her head to keep her focus on the streets. Losing track of your surroundings could be deadly out here. Suddenly, the footsteps were right behind her.

"Hey, baby, got something for me?" a muffled voice asked as an arm pulled her flush against a plump body.

She recognized the stale, tobacco and gin-stained breath before the voice. It was a fellow officer, Johnson. _S.O.B._

She kneed him. He released her and leaned forward, moaning. His partner, Stenson, who had stepped out of the alley to watch, laughed.

"What was that for?" Johnson asked.

She smiled grimly as she looked at him. "Get your car. We're going to headquarters."

Stenson rolled his eyes. "Look out," he said mockingly. "She's gonna tell on you to the Sargent."

Xxx

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	2. Chapter 2 - The Office

All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. I just like to play with the characters. My thanks to my wonderful beta edwardsmate4ever.

Vices and Vamps

Chapter 2 – The Office

Bella strode into Police Headquarters on Fifth Avenue in her stocking feet, carrying the six-inch heels. She held her head high as she walked across the main squad room, hearing conversation die as she passed.

_They're all staring at my hooker outfit_.

Behind her, she could hear Johnson and Stenson confidently greeting their fellow officers.

_They won't be sounding so cocky in a few minutes._

She waited for the two men to catch up before knocking on their Sergeant's office door.

"Come in," Banner called to her. Seeing Johnson and Stenson behind her, he kept his face impassive.

Bella bluntly explained why they were there. "Johnson groped me out on the street."

"I was just making her look more attractive to the customers," Johnson said.

Banner leaned back in his chair, exhaling. Bella could imagine him reaching into his desk for his bottle of aspirin, something he had done many times when it was just the two of them in his office. "Johnson, no more contact," Sergeant Banner barked. "You're there to watch her back, not cause her problems."

Watching their interaction, Bella became acutely aware that the two officers were wearing suits as their street clothes, and Sergeant Banner was wearing the Washington State Police uniform that had won awards from the National Association of Uniform Manufacturers and Distributors, while she was dressed and made-up to look like a hooker.

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"Do you want to file a formal complaint?" Sergeant Banner asked her.

The men stared at her, Stenson twisting the end of his tie nervously.

"No, but I would like for them to get a warning," Bella replied.

"That's not up to you," Johnson growled.

Bella glared at him but didn't answer as Banner shook his head at her.

"You are welcome to reconsider," Banner said formally, "and I will leave my file open for another week. Trooper Swan, you are dismissed. You two, please stay for a few more minutes."

Bella rose and left the room while the two men stayed behind. After the door closed, she walked back across the squad room to her desk. Despite the ringing phones, it was as if the room had gone silent and all eyes were on her. It felt she was walking a gauntlet.

_I'm Charlie Swan's daughter, and I have every right to be here._

Finally reaching her desk, she settled in and began checking her voicemails, resisting the temptation to look around the squad room to see who might be staring. As she picked up her phone, she saw her hand was shaking. She set the phone down and tried to collect herself.

_It isn't fair._

After about thirty minutes, Sergeant Banner's door opened and the two men walked out. They resumed their swagger when they saw they were the subject of curiosity, and Bella turned around, waiting for Banner to call her back in.

When she finally got back into his office, Bella relaxed in the chair. Banner had always been friendly to her. He had known her father and had been one of the first to truly welcome her into the Seattle police department when she arrived five years ago.

"I gave them a warning," Banner told her. "But they're not your real problem."

"I know," Bella said. 'What can I do?"

"Do a good job," Banner replied. "We need to have someone out there right now. Make it your job to know the area and the girls working it so you can tell us if anyone is missing."

"That's not why Mike has me there," Bella said, "and you know it."

"I won't comment on Lieutenant Newton's orders," Banner replied. He leaned forward and looked at her with tired eyes. "Tread carefully. Careers can be made or broken on these assignments. Think of it as a way to get more informants.

Every job has its possibilities. Make the best of the situation and show you know how to turn anything into an opportunity. Find CI's, make contacts. I assigned those two to you because of the homicides. The men are competent and will protect you out there on the streets."

"Those two…" Bella began.

Banner put out his hand to stop her. "I sent them to tail you. It's dangerous out there. They may be annoying men with little to lose at the end of their careers, but they are career officers and know how to use a gun. They'll keep you safe."

"After tonight they probably will stab me in the back," she said.

Banner shook his head. "After you left, I reminded them you're Charlie's daughter. Johnson looked ashamed. They'll be all right now."

"I should be working those homicide cases," Bella said, "instead of being stuck out there turning in johns."

"Not up to me," Banner said wearily, shuffling papers on his desk and putting a file in his drawer.

"I know." She thought grimly of Mike Newton, who had blocked her transfer to Homicide and channeled her to Vice. If she wanted to work downtown, he had told her, working as a decoy for Vice was the only opening the Department had. In the Washington Police Department, you had to be on the force for five years before you could request a transfer to a specialty area or take the week-long detective course. Mike could stall her indefinitely, forcing her into departments other than Homicide.

She had known going in that the Police Department was a military hierarchy. She just hadn't realized that men like Newton or even Johnson could ruin her. Maybe they already had. "Not a team player." "Emotional." These were the kinds of labels that could tank a woman's career in the Seattle Police Force.

At the end of her shift, instead of changing in the locker room, she covered up her mini-skirt and blouse with her raincoat and went out to her car in the rain. She tugged off the fishnet stockings and slid on her tan Toms slip-ons before getting out when she arrived at her apartment building.

XX

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	3. Chapter 3 - The Apartment

All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. I just like to play with the characters. My thanks to my wonderful beta edwardsmate4ever.

Vices and Vamps

Chapter 3 – Home-ish

_At the end of her shift, instead of changing in the locker room, she covered up her mini-skirt and blouse with her raincoat and went out to her car in the rain. She tugged off the fishnet stockings and slid on her tan Toms slip-ons before getting out when she arrived at her apartment building._

As always, she paused in front of her front door. She was sure no one was there, but she always listened. It seemed very James Bond-ish to worry, because who was going to break into her apartment? She wasn't a member of Her Majesty's Secret Service. She was a Washington trooper, trying to get into the homicide department.

Still, she always took a deep breath before opening her door.

She cautiously opened it, letting it swing open in front of her while waiting outside.

One of her neighbors, a friendly woman carrying two bags of groceries, walked past. Good-evenings were exchanged, and Bella straightened up and went inside the studio she called home. It was just big enough to "lay a hat and a few friends," as Dorothy Parker would have said.

Except she didn't have any friends to lay, though Mike Newton had been trying for a no-strings deal.

Still, it suited her purposes. _I don't need much room_.

The blinds were pulled, but some street light still got past them. She flicked on a light and looked around before going into the bathroom to change out of her hooker disguise.

Usually she did this in the police department's locker room. The make-up artist often helped her, and the girl's friendly chatter relaxed her. But today had been Angela's day off, so she hadn't bothered. As Bella looked in the mirror, using a make-up sponge to remove the black on her front teeth and the purple shadowing on her cheek, she reflected on the life these girls had. One that would make her blackened teeth and bruised face look normal. She shuddered.

She knew about their lives, as she had taken enough statements and observed enough bookings. That's why her work targeted the johns and not the girls. They had enough trouble without the police busting them.

When she went back into the main room, she saw the answering machine light flashing. Pushing the button, she listened as the machine proudly announced that she had two new messages. Both from her mother, Renee. No one else ever called. Five years out of college, twenty-seven years old, the lack of messages on her answering machine indicative of the emptiness of her life.

She sunk down onto her bed, exhausted. She ran her fingers over the purple bedspread Charlie had given her so long ago. It sort of matched the curtains, which had a delicate rose pattern, thanks to Renee. The studio had come furnished with blinds, which was enough for her, but when Renee showed up, she bought fabric and made curtains for the studio while Bella was at work.

Renee also furnished her apartment. The built-in kitchen bar with stools was enough for Bella, but Renee found her a table with four chairs. She also found a bed to replace Bella's futon, a matching bed stand, and finished off the room with two bookcases for her books, in tones that almost matched the bed set.

Bella had to admit that it was easier pulling books out of a bookcase than the box in the closet, which is where she had them before.

The shelf at eye level had Charlie's photograph. She ran her finger along the edge of the black frame. She missed him so much. She had lost him to a stupid accident. To the best anyone could tell, he had been struck by a deer while out on patrol. The car was found upside down by a tree, and a dead deer on the other side of the road.

Never made sense. But what did?

She went to the window and pushed back the curtain, squinting into the rainy night. Out there, somewhere, murders were being committed by persons unknown. She was determined to figure out who was doing it. Whatever it took. Even if it meant going around the police hierarchy.

So she decided to work in her own way, and to start choosing the areas she would walk in her hooker disguise.

The next night, when she was street-side again, she was navigating a new area, a college district. A lot of the missing had been college kids. She had seen the posters put over by grieving families, and to her each one represented an unknown number of broken hearts. The faces in the photos were usually snapshots, taken during an unguarded moment, or occasionally the person would be smiling for the camera, posed at a party or some family function.

As she walked, she tensed as she heard footsteps behind her. She put her hand on her gun in her purse, forcing herself not to turn to the guy rushing to catch up. She glanced sideways and gave her sultry hooker look, trying to assess her mark.

The guy had his face down slightly to avoid the light rain, but she could still get an impression.

No. Not him. He was handsome, blond hair, shivering like he was unused to the cold. His sweatshirt said Texas A&M_. Don't do it, college boy. Why do you want to pay? You should have a nice girl._

"Are you OK, Miss?" he asked in a soft Southern accent.

Her heart fell through her feet at the sound of his voice. But her thoughts were interrupted by the voice that came over her transmitter. "Got a taker. Reel him in, Swan."

"Just out for a walk, that's all," she murmured to her companion.

The stranger fell in next to her, his long, easy stride easily keeping pace with her tortured steps in the high heels. "I'll make sure you get where you're going. Dangerous out here, you know."

_Damn. A gentleman. How can I shake him?_

Tell him the truth. She knew that was the right thing, but it wouldn't be easy. And her supervisor wouldn't like it.

"Look, I'm sure you're very nice," Bella began, "but I'm OK. Really."

"No, you're not," the stranger persisted as he shivered and stuck his hands in his jeans pockets. "You're not dressed for this weather in that skirt and those heels, either."

She stopped, and he turned to face her.

She thought her heart would pound out of her chest when she saw him face to face. Tall, lean. Unruly blond hair sticking out from under the hood of his sweatshirt. Strong jaw, and blue eyes that cut through to her soul. _OMG._ _A complete heart-stopper. Drive him away. Let him go find some nice college girl who will love him the way he deserves._

"Look. I appreciate your offer," Bella replied, "but I'm an undercover cop, and I'm part of a sting operation. We're looking for suspicious people, and you're ruining my chances by following me. Unless, of course, you're the killer we're looking for."

A slow grin spread across his face as he shook his head, pushing more of that blond hair out from under his hood.

"No, ma'am, I'm not the killer," he drawled, dragging the words out slowly. "Unless saying so would make you interested in talking to me over a cup of coffee."

Xxx

And Jasper is on the scene.

Please review. I will send a preview of the next chapter to all reviewers.


	4. Chapter 4 - Stranger No More

All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. I just like to play with the characters. My thanks to my wonderful beta edwardsmate4ever.

Detective Swan

Chapter 4 – Stranger No More

"_Look. I appreciate your offer," Bella replied, "but I'm an undercover cop, and I'm part of a sting operation. We're looking for suspicious people, and you're ruining my chances by following me. Unless, of course, you're the killer we're looking for."_

_A slow grin spread across his face as he shook his head, pushing more of that blond hair out from under his hood._

"_No, ma'am, I'm not the killer," he drawled, dragging the words out slowly. "Unless saying so would make you interested in talking to me over a cup of coffee."_

She couldn't suppress a laugh. It felt good to laugh. She realized it had been a long time since anything had been funny.

"You're a decoy hooker, aren't you?" he asked.

She nodded. It sounded shameful, coming from him.

"They don't make you do it, do they?"

She shook her head. _What must he think of me?_ "No. When the mark offers to pay, I bust him."

"I'm sorry. That came out rather coarse. But really, it's just too dangerous for a pretty girl like you," he said.

She didn't feel pretty. She had make-up on her teeth to make her look like she was missing one. She left her hair unwashed, and the days she did wash it, she had to put junk in it to make it look dirty. She had a fake bruise on her neck and track marks on her arm.

"Look, really, forget you saw me, OK?" she asked, trying to get rid of him. "My job is to catch the bad guys."

"Jasper," he said.

"Jasper?"

"Jasper Whitlock, Ma'am, at your service."

A southern gentleman. She was doomed. He stood so tall and straight, even as he shivered slightly in his sweatshirt.

"I can almost picture you in uniform," she whispered.

"I did some time in the Rangers," he replied. "Made it to Major, but I wanted to do more with my life. Came up here for school."

Major. Right. He had the easy grace and athletic build that men would admire and look up to. "Well, Major Whitlock, I'm Trooper Swan, trying to become Detective Swan. Now let me do my job."

He backed up but didn't leave her alone. He followed her for days. When she started her shift, he would be outside on his motorcycle, and then, like magic, he would be behind her when she started the engine on her car after her decoy duty at the end of the night.

She tried to lose him, but he was more agile than she was on that motorcycle, so she couldn't, no matter how hard she tried. At the end of each shift, he pulled up next to her at the police station, and asked once again if she would go with him for a cup of coffee.

It should have felt like stalking, but it didn't. It felt good, knowing someone cared and was waiting for her. She also began to feel a bit responsible for him, feeling as if he caught pneumonia waiting for her on that motorcycle, it would be her fault.

Finally she gave in. "OK," she said when he pulled up next to her, before he even asked the question.

"Starbucks?" He pointed to the ever present coffee shop across the street.

"Give me fifteen minutes to report in," she said.

She finished the paperwork at her desk and stopped by the bathroom before leaving, fussing over her hair. It was no use. Other women fussed over their hair and make-up in front of the mirror and came away looking fabulous. She just looked frizzy. She took a deep breath and left the safety of her police station and headed for the Starbucks.

When she opened the door, she saw he had found a small table in the crowded coffee shop. She was dressed in her civvies, hardly date-wear. _I should ditch him. Just be brusque, tell him there is someone else._

"So," she said as she seated herself, looking down at the cup in her hands.

"We're here," he answered. She looked up at him. He was so good-looking, totally out of her league.

"You've seen me without the make-up. Now you know that I'm not some battered girl in need of protection," she said.

"Never thought you were. Just wanted a chance to get to talk," he replied.

"You're persistent."

"So they tell me," he replied. "It's a prized trait in the Rangers. Being able to track someone for a long time, not giving up."

"Never lose your man," she said.

"Nope. Didn't spend as much time with the Rangers as I would have liked. May go back onto the force when I get my degree and move home."

"And when would that be?" Bella said, her heart sinking at the thought of him leaving.

He sipped at his coffee for a moment before answering. "A while," he said. "Being a history major in graduate school is slow work. I'm seriously afraid my advisor may up and die on me, and I'll have to start with a new one."

Bella laughed. "Where do you come from? I mean, what part of Texas?"

"My time was split between Houston and rural Texas. Family owns a small ranch, which is where I learned to ride…"

She could have listened to him for hours. And hours passed. She noticed they were the only people left in the shop, and the staff was sweeping around their table.

"Guess it's time to go," Bella said.

"Yes. May I see you tomorrow?" he asked huskily.

She nodded, and he followed her back to her apartment building. She waved good-night to him as she went up.

When she opened the door, she closed it and leaned against it, trying to see her studio apartment with fresh eyes. As she looked at the small room, she was glad for the homey touches Renee had brought. Maybe she would have a visitor.

She walked around to check everything. The place was spotless. It was small, easy to maintain, and immersing herself in cleaning allowed her to burn off some of her anger and frustration with her job. She dusted again anyway, and touched things, considering how they looked. What did this room show to the visitor? Should she get some flowers? Maybe a throw rug.

Finally she went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Once inside, she grabbed the sink and stared at herself in the mirror. _It was just coffee, even though he had been persistent. Probably nothing. Now that he had talked to her, she might never hear from him again._

Her phone rang, and it was too late for Renee to be calling unless it was an emergency. She grabbed it on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Just making sure you got in OK," he said.

"I'm fine," she replied, relieved he had called.

"See you tomorrow morning," he replied.

She smiled as she hung up. He hadn't been pushy, just checking on her. As if he could read her mind and sense her insecurities.

Sure enough, the next morning he was waiting outside.

"Don't you have a job at the university?" she asked.

"Classes only meet a few times a week. I can do research on my laptop, though I still need to spend time in the library. I've been working on writing up my thesis, and that I can do in the car."

"You have a car?" she asked, surprised.

He gave a Cheshire grin. "The motorcycle is partly for show. You always spot me on the bike, but you've never spotted me in the car."

He put on his helmet, fastening the chin strap as she stood dumbfounded. How had she missed that? Then she laughed and turned to go inside the familiar, if frustrating, police station. As she walked in, she tensed, feeling someone coming up behind her.

"Got yourself an admirer, eh, Swan?" She turned to face Mike, who was smirking. "Some kind of a Texas Mountie?"

She fought to keep a straight face. He wasn't going to make something that could be beautiful feel dirty.

"It's none of your business, actually," she snapped and went to her desk, fighting to hold back her anger.

Xx

Please review. I will send a preview of the next chapter to all reviewers.

I'm going to be traveling over the next few weeks, including two weeks in Paris in May (yippee), so my postings will be a bit infrequent until the middle of May.


	5. Chapter 5 - Changing Routes

All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. I just like to play with the characters. My thanks to my wonderful beta edwardsmate4ever.

Detective Swan

Chapter 5 – Route Change

"_Got yourself an admirer, eh, Swan?" Bella turned as Mike came up behind her. "Some kind of a Texas Mountie?"_

_She fought to keep a straight face. He wasn't going to make something that could be beautiful feel dirty._

Mike knew how to make anything sound dirty.

"Go back to your wife, Mike," Bella snapped. "I'll keep saying no."

On her way to her desk, Angela whispered, "Sergeant Banner was looking for you."

_What now?_ She went to his office and knocked on the door.

"Enter."

The single word didn't sound promising. She came in quietly, sat down and waited, fidgeting in her chair as he typed on his computer. The seconds dragged on. Finally he stopped typing, stared at the screen for a minute, and nodded his head as if satisfied and before finally turning to her.

"How are you today?" he asked.

She nodded. "Fine, Sir."

"Changed your locations out on the streets?" he asked.

"I want to keep it fresh," she replied. "I had spent time trying to work myself into that site on Fourth Avenue. But after the scene with Stenson, I thought someone might have been on to me. So I went to check out the College Park area."

He nodded. "You have good instincts. Just make sure I know where you're going to be. We're finding more bodies, and I want to know where everyone is out there."

Her heart beat faster. Was he going to call her if they found a body and she was the closest officer?

As if reading her mind, he added quietly, "I just want to know where you are. There haven't been any assignment changes. If they need more officers, they'll be getting them from other agencies."

She looked down at her lap, twisting her fingers to keep from making fists. _Just ask him. _"Any chances of a reassignment for me in the near future?"

He sighed. "Not up to me, as you know."

"Maybe with another agency, then," she said, rising from her chair.

"Swan?" Sergeant Banner sounded hesitant. "Stick it out here. If you leave this department now, it'll look like you cut and run at the first frustration. Trust me on this. If nothing else, Newton get promoted. Someone else will come in. Just make sure everyone sees you doing a good job. OK?"

"Thanks," she said. She went back to her desk, feeling like she was missing out on the case that could make her career. No, that shouldn't matter. People were dying, and someone needed to figure out who was doing it.

She looked around the busy room. The staff was intent and exhausted, yet working with a purpose. Most of them. Sure, they still needed people to do routine things such as give out traffic tickets, etc. Some were old-timers who were just waiting for retirement. Others were the new guns, putting in their time to get to five years when the real action started.

_Don't be bitter._

But lots of other people had some part of the action. People such as lab techs and photographers. Scene of the crime type people.

And she was stuck in Vice.

The ongoing investigation of these mysterious murders seemed to swirl around her, like a cloud she was in the middle of but couldn't touch however much she reached toward it. She had been cut out of the information chain and was barely getting more than the general public from her briefings at evening report.

She learned more by just listening than she did in report. While she was in the break room, she heard the lab techs talking as they prepared their coffee. There had been more bodies. Savaged.

Since her desk was near a door, she heard investigators chatting at the end of the day or coming in from a scene. Cars had been burned at the scene of the crimes, but there were never any signs of robbery.

Angela was seeing one of the guys who logged in the evidence. He told Angela that the victims were still wearing watches and jewelry, still had their wallets or purses. There had been some thought that the killings were gang initiation or gang retribution. But those theories had been set aside, in part because of the jewelry and cash left at the scenes.

Bella went to the interview rooms and flipped through the books showing photos of the dead and missing. _So many people. And so many were young_. Every one of them must have somebody out there wondering where they were.

She looked at the date posted under the photos. There had been a sharp spike in the missing recently. Bella knew people were thinking that some of these might be additional victims whose bodies hadn't been discovered yet.

Rumor was that there was no pattern, other than that most of the attacks had been on the young. But location, occupation, gender – all those details changed between the attacks.

There were department-wide briefings, and she read the newspapers, but she knew that being kept out of the homicide division's briefings was hurting her. Banner had told her to stay put and keep working. She knew it was good advice, and she planned to take it. If nothing else, she could keep her eye on the young women and men who worked the streets she was assigned to. If no one else knew they were missing, at least she would know. That would be her contribution for now.

To keep track of those that no one else seemed to care about.

Not too long ago, she would have put herself in that category, in Seattle anyway. After all, her mother was in sunny Phoenix.

But now as she left each day, she knew Jasper would be there, waiting for her. They had moved from coffee shops to restaurants, eating dinner whenever she got off. They had taken walks on the University of Washington campus, because he wanted to show her the cherry trees in bloom. But she still hadn't asked him up to her apartment.

The apartment wasn't ready. She wasn't ready.

XX

Please review. I will send a preview of the next chapter to all reviewers.


	6. Chapter 6 - Nights In

All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. I just like to play with the characters. My thanks to my wonderful beta edwardsmate4ever.

Vices and Vamps

Chapter 6 – Nights In

_But now as Bella left each day, she knew Jasper would be there, waiting for her. They had moved from coffee shops to restaurants, eating dinner whenever she got off. But she still hadn't asked him up to her apartment._

_It wasn't ready. She wasn't ready_.

Bella was determined to contribute to the police investigation of the homicides making headlines in some way, on her own time if necessary. If nothing else, she could watch for these missing persons. She quietly took the binders used to hold the photos of the missing and made copies of the most recent entries with the accompanying bios, and put them in a binder to take home. She was carrying them in a messenger bag when she met Jasper for coffee.

Jasper was immediately interested in the bag slung across her side, as if he sensed what it contained. He cocked an eyebrow at the bag.

"Photos," she said.

"I'm curious, you know," he said.

"We can't discuss these here," she replied.

He nodded and waited, patiently.

She had been keeping him at arm's length by only seeing him in public places. He seemed puzzled but maintained his gentle persistence. Inside, she wondered how often he had done this, how many other women had initially resisted his easy charm. Was he only interested in the chase? What happened if she gave in? Why should he be interested in a plain-looking brunette such as herself?

She took a deep breath, unable to shake the feeling that she was giving in. "I brought what I could get of the homicide investigation files. It's just photos and bios, as I haven't been in on the briefings. I've made up my own files, if you want to see them."

His smile sharpened, and she saw a new light in his eyes. It was curiosity, but there was something else, a hunger, in addition to the look he had for her. She understood. He was a hunter too, a former Ranger.

So this time, instead of leaving him at the ground floor entryway with a peck on the cheek, she led him inside.

When they got to her apartment, her hand was shaking slightly as she put the key in the lock. She opened the door and stepped inside. She looked back and saw him taking in the room. His eyes landed on the handful of jonquils she had brought home from the supermarket the day before. She had put them in a blue pitcher she had found in the back of the cabinet. Renee must have picked it up at one of the flea markets.

She was letting him in.

Nervous, she went to the breakfast bar and pulled out the files. They caught his attention and he moved to stand next to her, putting his hand on her back, stroking it gently. But his focus on the files was all business. As he looked through the papers, his attention shifted from her, and she began to relax. She perched on a stool so he didn't tower over her.

She had never been able to connect with the faces of the missing, but it looked as if he did. He stroked the photos, as if he could reach past the paper and bring out the people, making them jump to life. He had a look of concentration like he was willing them to break the confines of the paper and talk to him. Tell him who they were, what happened.

"Are you thirsty?" she asked. Wrong. Awkward, and her voice brought his eyes back to her.

"I mean, would you like something to drink?" she asked.

He smiled and nodded before turning his attention back to the photos.

She got up and went to the fridge, thinking of the things she had stocked it with last night. She hoped she had something he wanted. As she pulled the door open, she felt him behind her. He closed the door and pulled her against him, his face nuzzling her cheek. She tensed, and he pulled a finger across her cheek.

"Relax, you know me," he whispered, soothing her with a kiss. She leaned back, letting go a little.

She heard him draw up one of the wooden stools and seat himself before pulling her onto his lap. She was tense but leaned back, trying to relax. _I want to do this_.

She heard a small huff of air behind her, as if he were exhaling in frustration. But his words were tender. "Relax, little darling. Just relax." He ran his fingers along her neck and down her shoulder, putting his lips on her neck when his hands reached her waist. His hair tickled her a little, and she giggled.

He put his head on the back of hers and laughed too, pulling her against his chest. She could feel the lean planes of his muscles through their layers of clothing, and smell his closeness. He smelled male, musky and earthy, with a little of the scent of his leather jacket thrown in. She could breathe that forever.

He turned her around so she was between his legs and he could kiss her. He looked into her eyes for a few long seconds then leaned forward. She moved to meet his lips. They were soft and warm, and he pressed lightly at first, then pulled her closer. Putting her arms around his shoulders, she slid one hand up to touch his hair, threading her fingers through it. His grip tightened and his kiss became more demanding.

_This stool is going to break if we stay like this_. She pulled back, taking his hand. He looked at her and she glanced down at the stool with a wry look. He looked down.

"We could end up on the floor," he said hoarsely.

She nodded. He put his arm around her and led her over to the small sofa. He sat, staring up into her eyes with a look of wonder before pulling her onto his lap. "You are so beautiful," he said softly, then pulled her into another kiss.

_Just let go; let it go. _She took a deep breath and leaned up slightly, winding her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, kissing him and willing herself to be lost in his arms.

The next morning she woke up, tangled in his arms in bed. When she moved, he opened his eyes.

"'Morning," he said. "How are you feeling?" then didn't give her a chance to answer before pulling her into a kiss.

_I could wake up like this forever. Except my breath probably stinks._

She got out of bed, grabbed his shirt from the floor and went into the bathroom. When she came back, he was seated on the side of the bed, wearing his jeans.

"I could wake up like this every day," he said.

"Exactly what I was thinking," she replied. He opened his arms and she came to sit on his lap. He finger combed her hair and they gazed at one another for a few seconds before he glanced at the clock. 8:25 A.M.

"What are we doing this morning before my 9:30 seminar?" he asked.

"Getting something to eat," she answered. Somehow those bagels in the fridge didn't seem enough.

There wasn't much time, so they went to their usual coffee shop which had breakfast croissants. At first she blushed when he looked at her, but gradually she relaxed and by the time he left for campus she felt comfortable in their new intimacy. He pulled her in for a long slow kiss by his car, then whispered, "See you tonight," before leaving. It wasn't a request, it was statement. And it felt good.

She returned to her apartment and started straightening up. She stacked the papers they had been looking at neatly and covered them with the messenger bag. When she got to her bed, the pillow still smelled like Jasper, so she lay back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

She was exhausted and happy, feeling like she could explode. But also feeling as if something terrible was about to be unleashed. Seeing Jasper with the photos had made something click inside her head, a feeling that had been bothering her but she had been unwilling to face. There was something evil in the city, she could feel it deep inside. These murders weren't normal, as there had never been eyewitnesses, despite the staggering number of bodies. No one had ever seen the killers. It was as if the persons committing them had been able to sense the presence of witnesses and silence them as well.

Xx

Please review. I will send a preview of the next chapter to all reviewers.

It will be a few weeks before my next update, as I'm leaving on my trip in a few days. See you guys in the middle of May!


	7. Chapter 7 - Rough Encounters

All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. I just like to play with the characters. My thanks to my wonderful beta edwardsmate4ever.

Vices and Vamps

Chapter 7 – Rough Encounters

_She was exhausted and happy, feeling like she could explode. But also feeling as if something terrible was about to be unleashed. Seeing Jasper with the photos had made something click inside her head, a feeling that had been bothering her but she had been unwilling to face. There was something evil in the city, she could feel it deep inside. These murders weren't normal, as there had never been eyewitnesses, despite the staggering number of bodies. No one had ever seen the killers. It was as if the persons committing them had been able to sense the presence of witnesses and silence them as well._

When it was time for her shift, Bella and Jasper drove to the station separately, him tailing her on the Ducati. This time as she went in, she looked back to see several of the other officers eyeing the Ducati admiringly. The door was being held open, and she saw Banner was just ahead of her. His eyes flicked from her to Jasper and a small smile played upon his face briefly before it was gone.

Before she went out onto the street, she saw Banner making coffee in the break room. He seemed more relaxed outside of his office.

"What did you think?" she asked. She realized that with Charlie gone, he had become the closest thing she had to a father.

He returned her gaze then smiled. "Of your young man or his Ducati?"

She laughed. "Both."

"I wasn't going to say anything because it isn't any of my business," Banner said. "But you seem to be happy, and I'm glad to see that. Glad to see it's a fellow officer, as well. He'll understand the rigors of our lives."

"Fellow officer?' she asked.

He looked at her. "There isn't a man here who hasn't noticed that fine-looking young man who has been out there on a daily basis with the Ranger star on his leather jacket. Whether they saw him or his Ducati, they all noticed the badge on his jacket."

"I saw it, but I hadn't thought anybody else would."

"Rangers are honorary," Sergeant said. "Takes skill to get noticed and accepted. It's the kind of thing the men would notice. What's he doing up here anyway? Doesn't seem like his type of climate."

"Research at the University."

"Hm," Banner replied. "Found you, too. Hope you like hot and dry climates."

Bella blushed. "We haven't talked that far ahead."

"Seems to me he wouldn't be going to all this trouble to leave you behind," he said, then finished making his coffee and went back to his office.

As she went to her desk, Mike passed her. He didn't say anything, just looked at the binders of the missing people she was carrying and curled back his lip.

"Research?" he asked.

"Going to see if there's anyone here I might have known," she replied.

He pursed his lips but didn't say anything else.

She grimaced, thinking back to that fateful encounter early in her career.

She had been trying to fit in, about six months on the job. They went to one of the patrolmen's regular hang-outs. Mike had been there. Both of them were still patrolmen, but he was three years ahead of her. At some point in the evening, the crowd had moved to another part of the room, and they were alone in that place along the long bar where the bar curve partially obscured their bodies from the others. He put his hand on her knee, and she could see the wedding ring on it.

He wasn't her type, and the ring was a turnoff. She was sure she had seen photographs of his wife on his desk, so she moved his hand off of her knee. He put it back, moving closer and reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. As he leaned in, she could smell the Jameson that was making his face flush.

She slipped off the stool, almost causing him to tip over.

"You're drunk, Mike. Go home," she said.

He struggled back onto the stool, straining to retain his balance and his composure.

"Not into men, Swan?" he asked, his speech slurred.

"Not into married men, Newton," she answered. She got up and joined a group of young female cadets. She didn't fit in well, but when they glanced back at Mike, the women closed rank around her. He eventually staggered away to a cab stand.

He made several similar gestures over the next few months, which she had rebuffed each time. He was promoted shortly after his five years of service allowing him to move up, and then there had been a botched drug bust where an officer had died. The details were never settled satisfactorily in Bella's opinion, but the department had promoted Mike to Lieutenant. It was that or fire him. They went with a promotion.

The day of the announcement, everyone had congratulated him as he made the rounds of the office, and he had held her eyes a tad longer than necessary when she gave him the obligatory congratulations. What she saw there made her uneasy. And sure enough, when the time came for her chance to advance, he had seen to it that she wasn't moved to her department of choice.

Meanwhile, Mike seemed to be doing well. He was always seen laughing and talking with not only his fellow officers but also superior officers, such as Captain Blundt and even Assistant Chief Welding, making sure he was part of the power elite. Someone who had been in Mike's office told Bella that there was a photo of Mike on a fishing trip, standing between Blundt and Welding holding a huge fish.

_Great. He caught a fish._

But that was then, though it was ongoing. Now she had to figure out how to keep him from ruining her career completely.

For instance, Mike had a nasty habit of catching her when she was alone in the break room. How he did it, she never figured out, but somehow he seemed to be able to block the door and make the occasional snide remark when no one else was around to witness it. She was fed up with the situation.

After the last time, she had bought a small tape recorder, one that fit into a Blackberry case she could clip to her belt. She didn't want the trouble of putting on a wire every day, and no one would think anything odd about an officer with an extra phone. She decided that the next time she found herself alone with him, she was going to click the recorder on.

It was there now, and Bella patted it before going to get her cup of coffee, but Angela was in the break room, so Mike didn't show. She chatted with her friend for a few minutes before heading out onto the street.

Tonight when she went out on the street, she noticed that business was down slightly, and everyone was jumpy. With the homicides in the headlines, the girls were nervous about getting into cars of strangers. Bella wondered how long it would be before anyone would notice that her johns never came back.

She was surprised to see a familiar face on one of the corners. Veronica had left her old haunts and come to College Park. When Bella ran into her at a McDonald's restroom, Veronica said, "The college kids are rowdy, but it feels safer up here. Are you doing OK?"

Bella just nodded, saying, "Oh, you know." Inside, though, she thought, _Of course I'm doing OK, as I'm not doing anything with these men…other than busting them_. She looked at Veronica's face, which had a bruise that she hadn't been able to completely hide using foundation. "Be safe out there," she whispered as Veronica went out the door, looking nervously into the neon-lit darkness before stepping out onto the sidewalk.

They had similar hair and build, but Veronica was drawing the customers. Bella wasn't getting a lot of attention. But a few hours in, someone walking down the street paused next to her.

No car, which was good. They would have to go to her hotel room, which was set up for a sting operation.

Still, the guy made her nervous. When he stopped, and she made herself smile, his eyes looked too intense. He didn't mill around for a few seconds before deciding. Many of the johns were nervous, but this one felt different to her. The man had a narrow, long face, which reminded her of a praying mantis. His hair wasn't so much blond as clear. You could see through it. He looked at her as if he were assessing her for something, something beyond the look a john gives a girl.

She wondered if this was Him, the murderer they were seeking. When she told him she had a room and he nodded, she kept her hand on the gun in her purse all the way to the doorway.

Despite her training, she was still nervous. As she fumbled for the key, she glanced down the hall and saw that Stenson was there, leaning out a window as if sneaking a cigarette. He would be in the room on her signal. Still, she had trouble leaving the door ajar without the john noticing. He seemed to be paying too much attention. She managed to just catch it before it closed completely, stopping it with her fingertips while turning to smile at her customer_._

Once the offer was made, she pushed the signal on her phone, and Stenson burst through the door. She had never been so relieved to see him. The john's reaction was terrifying. He didn't look afraid; he didn't look angry.

When Stenson led him away, he didn't protest, just stared at her with an "I'll be seeing you again," look.

Xx

Please review. I will send a preview of the next chapter to all reviewers.


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